Red Sauce and Other Drabbles
by Mujakina Choshi
Summary: Was supposed to be a oneshot, but then I decided I'd just put all my YGO drabbles here. Slash pairings, mostly. T for Bakura's mouth and mildly suggestive themes. YMxMI YBxYY New: YBxRB
1. Chapter 1: Red Sauce

Umm, this has no real explanation. I was reading a lot of fanfiction about Bakura cooking and out of nowhere this popped into my head. Its 5:00 AM, so don't ask. You can hack up the pairings in Yugioh pretty much whatever way fits your fancy, so I'm fine with pretty much every pairing xD

For your information, yes, I have eaten exactly what was described, and yes, it was delicious. Shut up.

"Eh…" He blinked down at the questionable meal, wondering how his half-assed search for food had come to this conclusion. Learning how to use a microwave was fairly easy, maybe that would be the first thing to blame.

Malik had gone out again. This was quite common, as he is rumored to posses a peculiar thing called a 'life.' But because he spent some time separated from Marik, who was content to limit his havoc-wreaking to his and Bakura's place, he decided Marik should learn how to cook. Mainly so that there would not be a repeat of a certain incident in previous weeks, which coincidentally is the main cause Marik is no longer permitted near Isis's pets.

Normally he would refuse, claiming that he should have someone to do it for him, but Malik insisted he at least learn how to use the utensils- "The proper way, without killing anybody."

Marik scoffed. Knives are for stabbing, simple as that. Cutting non-human things came second in the list of its many uses- to him, anyway. Bakura would agree. He snorted again, thinking of what Bakura would say if he saw what Marik was about to eat- or attempt to, anyway.

Not quite daring enough to risk making something from scratch; Marik had scoured the fridge and pantry for something easy.

Unfortunately, the whole reason Malik had left was to buy groceries. Marik and Malik both saw this as an 'Isis Job,' but she had refused, evidently PMS-ing that particular week. Marik was, as of yet, unsure what PMS was, but Malik usually used it to describe her when she was in a bitchy mood, and Kaiba sure as hell didn't appreciate it when Marik tried to describe him similarly with the same word.

Finally getting to the point, Marik picked up a fork- one of his more favored utensils next to the knife and the blender (simply because it made loud noises and this pleased him)- and stabbed the food harshly:

Cut potatoes with cocktail sauce.

All he managed to find were various half-empty bottles of condiments and leftovers, of which the potatoes were the only thing he remotely trusted. The cocktail sauce resembled blood and this amused him.

Without hesitation he stuffed a red-covered slice into his mouth. For a moment, he considered spitting it right back out, but he let it sit on his tongue for a while.

The cocktail sauce created a weird tingling sensation, seeing as how liberal he had been in emptying the bottle into the bowl, but he kind of liked it. It was stinging, but sweet, and sort of spicy at the same time. The potato, which was heated without the sauce, was warm and savory. He chewed it for a moment, swallowed, and then picked up another slice.

He was so absorbed with the bizarre and yet oddly pleasing taste of his kitchen creation that he didn't notice Malik enter the kitchen with arms full of grocery bags. He immediately noticed Marik bent over a bowl of something. He set the bags on the counter before coming up next to Marik, who noticed the familiar purple belly shirt and looked up.

His eyebrow perked, Malik held back a chortle at the red sauce at the corner of his yami's mouth. "What the hell are you eating…?"

"Potatoes and cocktail sauce." Marik replied simply.

"Potatoes and cocktail sauce." Malik repeated simply.

"Yes, potatoes and cocktail sauce. Is there a problem with that?" His dark side asked curtly, stuffing another forkful into his mouth.

"No, but…" Malik glanced around the kitchen. Nothing was broken, although the microwave door was hanging open, and an empty bottle of cocktail sauce sat on the counter. "How did you make it without breaking anything?"

"I'm not as bad as the bloody pharaoh." He defended. 'Bloody' promptly reminded Marik of what he was eating, and for a minute he imagined a real bloody pharaoh. On a fork. Okay, ew, no, he wasn't that twisted.

"Bloody? Have you been hanging around Ryou behind my back?" Malik took a seat across from him, evidently weary from grocery shopping. Or at the very least, bored.

"Maybe I have. What are you gonna do about it?" Marik asked through a mouthful of potato.

"I don't know. Beat you?" He suggested lazily.

"I'd like to see you try."

"Is that even edible?"

"Don't go changing the subject."

"Let me try some."

"No, it's mine."

Marik pulled the half-empty bowl closer to himself, putting an arm around it protectively. Malik watched and nearly snickered again, seeing his normally tenebrous yami protest with a fork sticking out of his mouth.

"Come on, just a bite." Malik reached for a slice of potato, not caring if he got some cocktail sauce on his fingers. He'd just lick it off.

But Marik moved the bowl again just as he was about to pick out a half-visible piece. "I told you, you can't have any." He smirked.

"Oh? Too bad, I'm taking some." Malik stood up and leaned over the table to extend his reach. Unfortunately Marik had the same idea to prevent him. Somehow, the simple actions of talking and eating had turned into something resembling Marik holding a bowl of potatoes and cocktail sauce over Malik's head, who was trying his hardest to make up the difference of arm length and height.

"Damn you!"

"That wasn't very nice." Marik smirked deviously.

"Yeah, like you're ever nice." Malik finally deigned to stand on tip toes and make a grab for the bowl, no longer even caring about the food it contained. Now he just wanted to win.

This brought Malik's face just close enough to Marik's to give the yami an idea. Marik brought his head forward an inch and touched his hikari's lips with his own.

Malik stood there, on tiptoes, shocked. Marik ran his tongue over Malik's bottom lip. As if suddenly realizing exactly what he was doing, he pulled away shortly after. Marik lowered the bowl from over his head, looking guilty and a little embarrassed. Which was highly unusual for him.

"I'm … err… I didn't mean…" Marik started, but he was interrupted.

"You bastard."

"Malik, I didn't mean to-"

"You weren't done." He interrupted. Malik bounced on his heels to give him another height boost and lock lips with Marik again. Marik moved the bowl out from between the two and put his free arm around the ever-so-slightly shorter teen.

Malik pulled back after a moment. "Haha. I win."

"…What?" Marik blinked.

His hikari ran a finger over his bottom lip, grazing the corner of his mouth. "Cocktail sauce." He said, showing the little bit of red on the tip of his finger.

"…Well, damn. I was careless." He said, setting the bowl down on the counter. He then licked away the remaining sauce. "I'll be more careful this time."

And with that, the bored/hungry afternoon became quite… entertaining.

Owari!

XD I didn't mean for that last sentence to come out so suggestive, but I couldn't think of any other way to end it. Yeah, I've been pretty bored with the Ranma fic, so I randomly typed this to help. How it helps, I don't know. But it was fun to write.


	2. Chapter 2: I Hate You

Oh, wow! The day I posted the first chapter I got two really nice reviews! I'm still up, and trying to stay awake, so I'll think I'll try to write another chapter.

Thank you mewchoochoo and Roguex1979 for reviewing! That really cheered me up ;

This time it's Yami Bakura x Yami Yugi. I normally don't write yaoi pairings before… Dammit, has tainted me. Especially Leo and her Bakura-centric-y fanfiction goodness… What was I talking about, again?

This is actually based off something that happened to me earlier today- except after I hurt it the first time, I didn't DDR anymore. I bet you want to know what I'm talking about, right? Read on. … Erm, Please.

I tried to keep the swearing down to a minimum, but it's BAKURA. I may just change the rating XD

-

"Sunuva…" He growled under his breath, shortly thereafter releasing a far more colorful string of curses. The white haired yami looked up swiftly, reddish-brown eyes searching for any signs of laughter or general amusement at his suffering. Luckily, it was a little past sunset on the lazy two-way street in the quiet suburbs of Domino. Other than his uneven breathing, all was quiet. He stood uncertainly, wincing in pain.

"Fricken _weak…_ No..!" He mumbled to himself. Bakura would NOT admit to any part of his mental or physical being as weak. He tested his foot, gingerly placing it on the ground and bouncing his weight on it. Even as a little boy in Ancient Egypt, Bakura had weak ankles. They tended to give out at random moments, especially if he moved too suddenly. Sometimes it was just a bizarre sensation in his ankle, and other times he dislocated things or bruised the side of his foot.

He rotated his foot, trying to pop any would-be problems back into their sockets. After a few satisfying cracks, he tested his weight on it again. Much less painful. Somehow he managed to disguise his limp and strolled back to Ryou's apartment, finding the stairs to require little more than a few moments extra care.

Irritably he wrenched the doorknob, but the door wouldn't open. It took him a moment or two of disgruntled twisting and turning until he remembered that Ryou has the door locked at all times so Malik and Marik couldn't show up uninvited.

Feeling silly he reached into his back pocket and produced the key for the apartment. If anyone knew what was going on with him, it was Ryou, and he wasn't looking forward to explaining why he had come home with yet _another _limp. So far, he had managed to hide his embarrassing birth defect from Ryou, instead coming up with more masculine excuses like 'Joey bit me again' or 'Malik ran over my foot with his motorcycle.' But seriously, that mutt has some sharp friggin teeth.

He took a moment to relax. When ever he bruised his foot, like today, he would often have a nervous reaction that caused shivers to go up his spine. And consequently the rush of adrenalin caused him to break into fits of laughter. He waited for another shiver, but they seemed to have subsided, so he pushed the door open. Without waiting for Ryou to greet him he began explaining his awkward hobble.

"Okay, it's not my fault this time, it was that blasted Yami who-"

"I did what, now?"

Bakura opened his eyes, previously closed for dramatic effect, to see the familiar brunette-red-blonde of the said yami standing right in front of him. Bakura was filled with questions. Where did Ryou go? More importantly, did Yami notice the limp? And even more important than that,

"What the fuck are you doing in my house?"

"It's not your house, it's Ryou's."

"Same thing!"

"Anyway, what did I supposedly do to you now?"

"You broke into my house, apparently. Where's Ryou? Or did you kidnap him, just to piss me off?" Bakura dropped a bag of various items he picked up from a convenience store- the whole point of his painful expedition.

"Who do I look like, you?" Yami smirked, earning a snarl from the albino before him. "Nah, Ryou went out with Yugi to help him look for a card he lost in the park. He said that I should stay here and you'd be back soon so I should let you in."

"…" Bakura paused for a moment, mostly for effect, but it also gave him time to narrow his eyes at the obnoxious Egyptian spirit. Ryou probably knew that he would forget that the door was locked. "So then… why _didn't_ you?"

"I wanted to know what you were giggling about." He said matter-of-factly.

Bakura scoffed. "I was simply remembering what happened on the 4th of July. You remember that, don't you?" He smiled devilishly- that slap-happy little incident was something Bakura could cruelly hold over Yami any time he wanted. Lord, did he love Marik for spiking the drinks.

"Keh." Yami walked off into the house, evidently having grown tired of antagonizing Bakura in his own house. Bakura nearly sighed with relief. The last thing he needed was his mortal enemy seeing him with a twisted ankle.

He grabbed the bag, containing batteries, chocolate sauce, and a pack of straws. Ryou always seemed to forget these whenever he went shopping. Although, Ryou never seemed to understand the utter importance of straws. They're straws, for crying out loud! They're so much fun. And they make it so easy to be lazy.

After he had placed everything in its proper corner (or stuffed in his night stand drawer, in the case of the straws) Bakura stood up and looked around the apartment. Yami was watching TV in the living room, most all of the lights were off, and the last bits of the red sunset were leaking into the cozy atmosphere through the half-parted curtains.

_Man _was he bored. He approached Yami, who had slid off the couch, turned off the TV, and was tinkering with a black rectangular box on the floor.

"Hey, that's Ryou's." Bakura said lazily, watching the shorter yami out of sheer lack of anything better to do.

"I'm well aware of that." Yami replied equally deadpan, unplugging and plugging things. He replaced the disc in the console as well.

"Hey. Don't act so bloody high and mighty, I'll kick you out." Bakura snarled for a third time in a short while. Not only was his foot in mild pain, but now he had this starry-haired freak to deal with. In his own house! Messing with his hikari's precious stuff!

"Wanna DDR with me?" Yami asked abruptly.

"N-…!" Bakura was so prepared for an insult that he almost blurted out another colorful sentence. But he caught himself. Where the hell did that come from? Yami didn't offer to play games with Bakura. He wasn't nice with Bakura, and as far as he knew, he didn't even like DDR. He voiced this concern in his usual manner.

"What the fuck?"

"Well, if you don't think you're any good I suppose you don't have to." Yami smirked, knowing all-too-well he just hit home with his cocky banter.

"You're on, pipsqueak!" Bakura shouted, kicking open the DDR mat. Screw his foot! He was going to fight this out like a man! Men don't whine about a stupid twisted ankle!

Yami stepped on the arrows until they were sufficiently set up in Free Play mode, Standard vs. Standard. Bakura almost selected Challenge just to rub it in Yami's face, but he didn't want to risk his ankles more than he had to. The pain was starting to bother him a little…

The first song was slow enough. Both spirits had been bored long enough to practice this game at various arcades and rainy days at home. Bakura found himself quite annoyed to find that they started their first round with a tie. Bakura had a few more points, and claimed that should be a win, but Yami said it wasn't nearly enough and that they should try again. Not willing to come off as a coward, Bakura agreed.

And actually, it went on like that for a while, until both teens (men? Two year olds?) were stomping viciously on the poor dance pads trying to get a slight point advantage over the other. Bakura was so focused on finally beating that damn pharaoh that he had completely forgotten about his injured foot and almost didn't realize what song he was jumping around to.

"Speed over Beethoven." Yami huffed. "Pretty hard."

"Yeah…" Bakura gasped. "One more!"

"But of course!" Yami complied. He selected Daikenai, they had been switching off picks. Bakura was tempted to tell him he was almost doing better than him with an injury, but he wanted to wait until he REALLY kicked his ass.

Unfortunately, Bakura was most painfully reminded of his foot 18 steps into the song. _Bloody 1/8 beats!_ He cursed, feeling a twinge of pain shoot through his nerves. But he was relentless. Yami was too focused on the screen to notice the blur of white come crashing into him, if it weren't for the sickening crack emitted from Bakura's leg. 

Before he could turn his head in the former thief's direction, frantic hands shot out, grasping his shirt in search of support. This caused him to stumble, tumbling down with the lanky teen.

"What the hell, dude!" Yami spluttered in Bakura's face.

"OH, SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Bakura screamed, obviously irritated by the pain. If it was bruised before, it was definitely dislocated. He wanted to scream again, and maybe literally bite the pharaoh's head off. If he hadn't challenged him, no, if he didn't have these blasted ankles. Could he really blame himself for that? Who could he blame? God dammit, this was embarrassing!

Bakura made a few grunting noises and managed to pry himself out of the tangled mess of arms and legs. Gingerly he tried to pop his foot back into place, but the ferocity of his dancing jarred his muscles somewhat and made a simple stretching and rotation impossible. He didn't know this until he tried, of course, and it promptly caused him to shout in pain again. Tears threaten to spill from his eyes. He wouldn't allow that, though, so he bit back everything, grasping at his injured leg.

He waited for it. The laughter. The obnoxious, cackling, dreaded laughter. But it never came. Still looking very hurt, Bakura glanced at the Yami. An unfamiliar expression was on his face. The albino perked an eyebrow at this, through all of the pain.

"What are you lookin' at!" He snapped.

"You, you dummy, you were DDR-ing with that all along, weren't you?"

"God DAMMIT how did you know!" Bakura didn't bother trying to calm himself or lower his volume. If it woke up the whole damn apartment complex, GOOD. If it bothered Yami, EVEN BETTER.

"Normally, you kick my ass at this game." Bakura was shocked, again. Yami was definitely being weird that day. Yami reached for Bakura's ankle, and by reflex the white haired spirit pulled away, causing himself more pain. "Don't touch it, moron!"

"Don't move it or you'll make things worse, moron." Yami said with an unnerving amount of patience, grabbing his ankle again. He pulled and pushed it for a moment, and just when Bakura was ready to rip his head off he heard a slight popping noise and much of the pain diminished.

"…"

"There. Better?" He asked, looking up at the frustrated teen. Bakura nodded, but he didn't look ready to express any feelings of gratitude.

"It's not my fault…" Bakura mumbled, barely audible. "I was born with it. It's not my friggin fault…" He lowered his gaze to his lap. Yami blinked at the solemn figure on the floor beside him. He knew that Bakura meant his ankles and their tendency to give out on him. To be perfectly honest, he had known that for a long time. Why wouldn't he know that about someone as important as Bakura?

"…"

The awkward silence seemed to fill the whole apartment. The DDR game, abused as it was, was silent. Obviously the both of them failed, having fallen off the dance pads. Out of sheer curiosity, Yami turned his attention to the screen instead of the brooding figure next to him. Bakura was winning, even though it was a small margin.

Bakura himself was feeling very confused. He expected Yami to tease and taunt him mercilessly upon finding out. But he wasn't. He was just being quiet, letting the red clear from Bakura's vision. He felt warm hands on his poor abused foot and he immediately looked up. Yami didn't look at him, he kept his eyes on Bakura's foot. He watched as the pharaoh massaged his foot, putting muscles back in place and eliciting a light moan from the normally cold former thief.

After a few minutes of the silent display of affection, Bakura decided to say something to spite him.

"Yami."

"Yes?"

"I hate you." He smirked through half-lidded eyes.

"…" Yami looked up, smirking as well. "I love you, too."

-

Owari! Wow, that was a long one. XD Well? Was that too OOC? I think I may have rushed it a little.. But it's so long already...


	3. Chapter 3: 4th of July, Part 1

Heheh. Well. I've been unproductive lately, and so in a short while I've got to get down to some heavy drawing. But first I thought it would be interesting to come up with a story for that 4th of July reference I made last chapter.

So I should probably stop reading FMA.

-

"Hikaaaariiiiii." Whine.

"What is it _now,_ 'Kura?" Rolling eyes.

"I'm booooreeeed." Turn, blink.

"Why do I need to know? Besides, if you need something to do, you should be getting ready for the party." Turn, blink.

"Bah. I don't want to go to that bastard pharaoh's stupid party. We shouldn't even CELEBRATE that holiday, we're not in America." Sigh, slump.

"I don't know what's got you so worked up about it. But you're going. Because I said you'd come. So you're coming. See how that whole promise thing works?" Chuckle, turn away.

"Oh come off it! So I forget things every now and then." Bakura huffed, sliding further down onto the couch. By this time he was solely suspended by his feet on the coffee table and his head on the couch cushion.

"I don't think it's the same if you forget on _purpose_…" Ryou stated thoughtfully, shoving another pack of sparklers into his backpack. They didn't really celebrate the 4th of July, but it was a good excuse to set off lots of fireworks and get everyone together. "Even Kaiba is coming."

"Pfffft!" Bakura sputtered loudly. "Haha! How'd THAT happen? Let me guess- Mokuba?"

"That's about the size of it." He zipped the backpack closed. "Now go get dressed. You very well can't face the phar-… Yugi and Yami in your boxers." Ryou wondered why he would call Yami 'pharaoh.'

"Shut up. I'm sexy." Bakura announced, standing in all his shirtless glory. He'd been in said state since he had woken up, trudged out of his bedroom, and plummeted onto the couch and into the world of day-time TV. And we all know how entertaining _that_ can be. "But you have a point, as always. Damn you. I'll go change.. er… put clothes on." He walked past Ryou, who was facing the hallway from behind a kitchen counter.

"And don't think I didn't catch that pharaoh thing just now." He smirked, proud to have power over his hikari's mannerisms.

"Why can't you call him Yami, again?" Blink.

"Hell, I could call him Atemu. But everyone calls him Yami. I should be special." Deadpan.

"But…Malik and Marik call him that, too… Know what? Just put some clothes on." Shake of head.

"Can-do, Captain!" Salute.

Ryou watched him go, pulling his boxers up awkwardly. He almost chuckled again. They were close, and he enjoyed his yami's plain silliness. Sometimes he was more like a maniacal, hyper-active child than a roommate, but that was okay, too. He just prayed that no one handed him a lighter later that day.

-

"COOL!" Bakura squeaked, taking the big, red lighter from Marik with glee.

"Just bought it half an hour ago. Never used it, so it's full." He smirked. Malik chuckled beside him. "There's gonna be lots of fireworks. Marik and I were thinking we could set a few off on our own and give Yami some shit."

"You wanna set off fireworks at Yami?"

"That's the size of it."

"…I'm in." Bakura nodded. He had met with Marik and Malik on the way to Yugi's house, having set out a little later than Ryou. He had managed to sufficiently dress himself in a black wife-beater and jeans, no point in dressing up special for a nuisance.

Malik was wearing a blue belly-shirt, of which he seemed to be fond of and own several, and leather pants. Marik had a cape on, wrapping himself in it like a vampire. This bemused Bakura to no end.

"Dude… The cape… Double-you tee eff, mate? Are you going to rip it off at the party and be naked or something?"

Marik scoffed. "That's right. I'm a friggin flasher. I'm going streaking." He shuffled a bit under the cape.

"Nice. I'll have to get hikari's camera." Malik giggled at this.

"He says it's to be dramatic as the backyard goes up in a fiery blaze, but I think he just likes to wear it."

"Well, wearing it to be dramatic and wearing it for fun is practically the same thing. And isn't that _hot?_" Bakura said, flicking his messy bed-head hair from his face. It was the middle of summer, after all, and Japan was known for its blistering summer heat. Not that today was unbearable. After all, Ryou's apartment had air conditioning.

"Eh." Was all Marik said, looking up at the sign over the doorway before them. 'Kame Game Shop,' it read. Lowering his gaze, Malik noticed a sign hanging on the front door. 'Go around to the backyard, please.' Yugi's loopy handwriting.

"Here we are."

"Joy." Bakura spat, and kicked open the gate. Just as he had wanted, all attention turned to him. He gave a cold glare all around the yard, with a little added arrogance. Malik and Marik promptly flounced in on either side of him. It would have looked most menacing if Marik had removed himself from the cape, but he still had it tucked around him. He looked as if at any moment he would lash it out and turn into a bat. Maybe that _was _what he was going to do, Bakura thought.

"Wonderful. The lunatic's are here." Kaiba rolled his eyes and turned away with a huff.

"Well, fuck you, too." Marik growled.

"Did you come for the party or to rob us?" Yugi asked, cocking his head to one side. Bakura was taken aback for a moment at the wit in the sentence, as was unexpected from innocent little Yugi, but scowled it off all the same. "Ask Hikari."

"I have a naaaaame…" Ryou's voice called out. It was faint, coming from inside. Malik closed the doors behind them. "Are we the last ones to arrive?"

"Yes, as usual." Yami drawled, emerging from a room with Ryou, carrying a plate of appetizers for the party. Jounouichi took the plate from him and arranged it on the table with others. Ryou went to help him, also carrying a plate and a bowl. Free of his previous burden, Yami waltzed over to Bakura. "I still don't know why aibou invited you."

"I still don't know why I came." Bakura lied. He came to set Yami on fire, of course, but it's been said that announcing such things is not tactful. "The only thing more boring than hanging out with your hikari is hanging out with you."

"Aaaannyway," Yugi interjected, sensing the tension and the potential for a fight (not involving cards, for once). "Now that we're all here we can start the party."

-

Owari- for now.

This is pretty long as it is, and I really need to get to that drawing, so I'll write the second half of this later. This is all fluff, anyway.

Ha ha! I got three pages, exactly! … Not including this.


	4. Chapter 4: 4th of July, Part 2

I got lots of nice reviews for the last chapter, so I've decided to keep going. I might get back into my Ranma fanfiction, but, that might not be for a while ; I've been playing Magical Melody (Harvest Moon game for the Gamecube) for the past three days. Straight. With out sleep. Needless to say this should be entertaining. A snippet of our conversation about said game:

"IT TRIED TO EAT ME!"

"It was a cow!"

"That was scary. I fear for my life."

Oh, thank you all my reviewers, I really appreciate the support.

P.S., Kaylie: Yes, yes you have. It's called Gravitation. Don't lie. Lies make baby Jesus cry.

-

"So, what exactly does starting this party entail?"

"Well, that's open to suggestion, but there's food, and music, and duel monsters set up…" Yugi trailed off.

"My GOD, again?" Marik sputtered, shuffling in the big purple cape. Bakura reached to wrench it off of him, but he wrestled it back without being revealed.

"Well, some of us actually started playing the game for fun." Tristan chirped from the general vicinity of Joey and the food table.

"Yeah, not to take over the world or swallow it in darkness." Joey agreed, giving a pointed look at Bakura & Company in particular. "We could think of something else to do."

There was a thoughtful silence, in which Bakura shifted his weight several times, and then finally turned to Ryou. "Did you invite me to a party that had no purpose, no activities, and no acceptable human beings to be around with?"

"…No."

"…"

"I hope not?" Ryou shifted his gaze.

Bakura glared at his shorter light. It was an hour or two until dark, and until then there was really nothing to do. Yugi was started to look very uncomfortable and put-out by the down-hill start of his (nonetheless still meaningless) party.

"Look, if you don't want to be here, just leave." Yami seemed to notice this, and promptly moved to stand in front of the nervous high-schooler. "Nobody wants you here, anyway."

Bakura felt heat rising to his face. "What's got your panties in a bunch? I had the _decency _to show up where I was asked to show up. What more do you people want from me?"

"Keeping a promise is one thing but lingering where you're not wanted is just _sad_."

"You know what? I think you all have unrealistic expectations. News Flash; Pharaoh, not everyone is as lovey-dovey friendship-can-do-anything goodness-prevails-over-evil as you are. Come to think of it, very few people are. So when somebody isn't as bright and fucking chipper as your little pep squad, you can't get all high-and-mighty on them. They're what's considered _normal._" Bakura mocked Yami openly, and by his rapid intake of breath, one could tell he was preparing to launch into a long winded Bakura monologue. Yami decided it would be better prevent this occurrence with a well-placed piece of fruit. Yes. Citrus-y justice had been served.

Ryou watched the orange roll across the lawn after ricocheting off of Bakura's head. He rested his gaze where the fruit rolled to a stop. From there, he slowly lifted his eyes back to Bakura, who stood in shock with one arm up and his mouth open. Yami stood smirking cockily, watching Bakura slowly lower his hand.

"You _really _want to take it there?" The so-called albino asked in a serious tone, brushing the spot where the hard rind hit his cheek.

Yami merely raised an eyebrow in response.

"Okay, suit yourself." Bakura promptly dipped his hand into the nearest cooler, of which there were several stacked against the wall of the house, and pulled out a carton of ice cream. Before Yami was quite sure what the hell he was going to do with said carton, Bakura had ripped the container apart and the sugary, creamy contents went sailing through the air

and landed on Yami's head, in his multi-colored hair.

Seeing a combination of ice cream and carnage, Marik got excited, and deigned to flick his hand out from the cape long enough to chuck a bowl of salad at Kaiba. Why Kaiba, no one was sure, but the CEO was enraged. He looked briefly down at the French dressing dripping off his (most likely very expensive) summer trench coat and, without hesitation, flung a cup of punch back at him. The cup, only obeying the laws of physics, splashed all between him and Marik with the purplish liquid.

And thus the 4th of July food fight had officially started.

"Works for me!" Malik exclaimed, and began pelting Tea with miniature hot-dogs.

In the middle of the food fight, in which both food, drink, and condiment splattered all over the yard, a meek little boy poked his head out from the back door. He narrowly ducked a poorly-aimed banana. "Hey. Hey."

"TAKE THAT, YOU ALBINO BASTARD!"

"Hey."

"POINTY-HAIRED PIECE OF SHIT!"

"Hey!"

"YOU'RE ONE TO TALK!"

"WOULD YOU SHUT UP ALREADY?"

All eyes turned towards the screech. Mokuba stood glaring in the doorway.

"In case any of you were wondering, the dance floor is all set up." And he disappeared inside.

"Oh yeah." Yugi piped from underneath one of the tables, "I forgot about that."

A silence fell over the yawn once again. Malik stopped trying to decorate Marik's face with chocolate sauce. Duke questioned aloud when and how he got covered in cherries and whipped cream1. Kaiba managed to slip inside after his brother. Joey glanced over to see Bakura and Yami still going at it, the two of them having broken eight plastic knives and one spork trying to induce bodily harm to the other. Yami was currently being drowned in the punch, Marik hovering by them.

Ryou quickly walked over and pulled his dark off of Yugi's, holding him back as Yami pulled his head out of the liquid and gasped.

"Sunuva…"

"Now, now, don't want to break character, do we, Mr. Friendship?"

Yami just glared. Yugi beckoned everyone inside to get cleaned up and maybe dance. The bass of good dance music started thumping from inside.

Bakura found himself watching Yami whilst being dragged through the door by both Ryou and Duke. "Haha. Look. Bastard's choking."

"Shut up, you, you started all of this."

"Did not."

"Did you just eat a cherry off of me?"

"No."

"… It's hanging out of your mouth, Bakura."

"That proves nothing."

"Here, I found a towel."

Bakura took the towel and immediately buried his face in it. Marik said something, but he was too busy being enthralled by his accomplishment of starting chaos and havoc at the pharaoh's shindig.

"Hey. Did you hear me?" Marik nudged him with a naked elbow. Bakura looked the fellow psycho up and down.

"You took off your cloak?"

Marik grinned ear to ear. "No point in hiding empty bottles."

The thief stared at him blankly for a minute. Malik giggled madly and held up a small bottle.

"… Watermelon schnapps."

"And some other schnapps, and 80 proof vodka-lots of it, and some wine I stole from the place I got the lighter2-"

"Oh, hey, I had almost forgotten about that."

"A lighter? Marik gave you a lighter!"

The devious trio turned to Ryou, who remained beside Bakura holding up the disheveled towel. "What did I say about lighting Yugi-kun's house on fire?"

"Um, I believe it was something along the lines of 'don't.'"

"Exactly." The chocolate-eyed hikari held his hand out expectantly.

"Dammit! I hadn't even used it yet…" Bakura dropped the beautiful, shiny red lighter into Ryou's hands. He closed his fingers around it no sooner than it hit his palm and dropped his fist to his side.

"OI."

"Schwa?" Marik looked up and saw a staggering Yami blinking into his face.

"Wher'vsh Bakurra?" He gurgled.

The tomb-keeper blinked, not fully grasping the degree of Yami's current condition. "Right in front of you?"

"Than'sh." Yami promptly launched himself over the threshold, latching onto Bakura for support.

"What the fuck?" Bakura stumbled, grabbing onto the Yami's arm with one hand.

"Oiuee ouiee! I canneat you, you're cute…" Yami giggled into Bakura's shirt. He bunched the fabric into his fist with one hand, and the other hung limply at his side.

"I think he's drunk." Marik stated flatly.

"No shit, Sherlock."

"I didn't think he'd react this drastically." Malik rubbed his chin in mock-pensiveness. "Guess he can't hold his alcohol."

Ryou stared with mild horror at his best friends yami, who was now rubbing his face all over the shirt of his own (appalled and yet bemused) yami. "Considering the fact that he was previously housed in the body of an under-age high school student, I'd guess he can't."

"Kurakura smellsh funneh." Yami giggled, falling to his knees. He was now entirely propped against Bakura, who was pushing the pharaohs face away from lower region nervously. He cringed at the slurred speech and the nickname it entailed.

"That would be the soda you poured on me. Remember?"

"No."

"I didn't think so. Twerp! Oi! Get your lush off me!"

Ryou hushed him promptly. "No no no! How's Yugi going to hide Yami? His grandpa's going to find him sooner or later and figure out someone spiked the punch. He could go to jail for serving alcohol to minors."

"He didn't serve it, we did. Actually, we didn't really even serve it."

"It doesn't make a difference. There was alcohol here," He gave a most dangerous glance in Marik's direction. "and that's illegal, like everything else you three seem interested in. We could probably hide him at my place."

There was a moments silence while Yami hummed a nonsensical tune into Bakura's pant leg. The air passing from the pharaoh's mouth onto the fabric was heating his leg quite quickly, and Bakura tried to shake Yami off much like one shakes off an overly-affection dog. Cough.

"Get off already!"

"Geroff gerofff!" Yami squeaked, and clung tighter, wrapping his arms around Bakura's thigh. Bakura grunted in annoyance and tried to pry him off.

"Before this goes any farther, we should probably take up Ryou's offer."

"Fine! Just GET IT OFF."

"Geroff geroff! Kurakurachansan…" Yami hiccupped.

A suppressed giggle passed among Bakura's so-called companions, receding after much death-glaring on his part.

It took them a few minutes, but they had actually managed to pry the giggling, babbling Yami off of Bakura. The former pharaoh now resembled more a loose mental patient then a drunken teen, but no one really paid much attention to the difference. They tossed him over the end of Malik's bike, not trusting him to be able to walk the few blocks to Ryou's apartment, and the other three followed on foot.

"… Sorry you had to leave the party…" Ryou trailed off, looking for something to break the awkward silence. Halfway through, however, he had realized that it was actually an improvement.

"Bah. Sucks to their shitty party." Marik scratched the back of his head. "That was stupid. I don't know why we even went."

Ryou flushed. He felt bad for Yugi, who was actually just trying to bring the two parties together. Kaiba floated in and out, but he was usually busy anyway, and they suspected he opted not to show up even when he didn't have immediate work to do. But as usual Malik, Marik, and Bakura simply refused to mingle, and they had managed their way out of another get together.

"Come to think of it, you always come to a party when you're invited, but you never stay."

"Are you saying we shouldn't even show up?"

"Well, no." His voice came out much more flatly then he first surmised. "I mean, why do you show up? Are you really that obliged?"

Bakura shrugged. "I follow you, mostly. I can't stand that idiot Pharaoh, but sometimes he's funny. Like today."

"You mean until he started molesting you."

Bakura stated something colorful here, and struck Marik over his head. Marik replied with an equally colorful recrimination and they began an impromptu karate match, which Ryou found most amusing, seeing as neither knew karate.

"Guys, we have to catch up to Malik, regardless of the respectability of Bakura's cat."

"Don't mess with us, man, we'll BOTH cut 'ya." Bakura made a stabbing motion, slicing the air in front of him. He accordingly adopted a poor ghetto accent.

"Isis's snakes could probably eat you both alive. At the same time." Marik made a hissing noise and trotted forward to catch up with Ryou.

Bakura thought for a minute, and then started cautiously, "Ryou... why do you have to be the voice of reason all the time?"

Normally Ryou would have thought the question rhetoric, like Bakura's usual whining. But he slowed down, actually considering the question seriously.

"I'm used to it by now. It's what's expected of me, isn't it? I don't mind…" He paused, thinking more.

"You don't have to be, we don't mind."

"No, I HAVE to be, or you'll get hurt, or thrown in jail. That's just how…" A sudden smile spread across Ryou's face.

"How you what?"

".. Nothing, we're here." Ryou said curtly, and pulled the keys to the apartment complex out of his pocket. He quickly ushered them in and up the stairs. Marik was busy wondering where Malik parked his car, and while Bakura did make a mental note to force Ryou to finish his sentence, he was also distracted. Yami was singing quite loudly, and Ryou made an interesting face when he recognized the song.

"Is that-?" He pulled the apartment door open.

"M-O, M-O-R, M-O-R-N-I-N-G W-O-O-D, LET'S GO!"

Yami spun in a circle, dancing on the counter top. Malik was rolling across the kitchen floor, his breathless laughter (and choking) barely audible over the radio blasting from beside the sink. (Ryou enjoyed listening to music while doing dishes, or so he says.) Said hikari and company's jaws promptly dropped, as Yami bounced about, singing still.

As if the song wasn't bizarre enough, the pharaoh had also apparently felt the need to pull his jeans off and fasten them onto his head, so his spikes were efficiently covered by denim. Marik promptly crumpled onto the floor in hysterics, and Bakura let out a few sharp chortles. Ryou simply stared, possibly already slipping into a catatonic stupor.

"Wh-wher.." Marik stopped, gasping for air and words. "Where the hell did this come from?"

"I jus' turned on the radi-o-" Malik gasped back, losing his voice once more as Yami tumbled off of the counter and sprawled out over the carpet.

Bakura leaned over, supporting his hands on his knees, and truly laughed. When he finally straightened himself out, he noticed Ryou smiling blissfully.

"Whazzamatter?" He chuckled, unable to shirk off his own grin.

"Because, that's just how I show that I care about you guys." He said the words breathlessly, and they were just above a whisper. Bakura was certain they didn't reach either Ishtar, and certainly not Yami, who presently was rolled into the rug. Bakura stayed still a moment and watched all of them, especially Ryou, who continued smiling.

-Owari-

Haha! I FINISHED IT. .. AND MAN DOES IT SUCK. I'm sorry it took me so long to get this second half out. But I just got the idea to finish it and it's sappy and bad as usual.

But, hey. It's … kind of cute? XD Review anyways, plzkthx?

… I didn't just type that.

1 For Kaylie xD

2 Marik doesn't know how to mix drinks very well…


	5. Chapter 5: 4th of July, Epilogue

And now, a disgustingly short epilogue of the previous chapters.

Don't shoot.

-

He grazed his finger over the smooth surface, admiring the cool roundness. It was ever so slight, subtle even, still appearing rectangular in shape. The ground around him was littered with empty packages, torn wrapping, and shredded paper. He looked to his younger sibling, happily running around having a sparkler fight with Yugi, who had no qualms with acting like an eight year old. Both were wearing thick construction gloves, as a precaution.

He returned his attention to the red object in his hand, and eventually, the target. There was one left, and finally the target had let his guard down. After much chasing and hiding, he was defenseless, talking absentmindedly to Tristan and rubbing some burns with aloe. Carefully, the hunter took aim, and clicked the smooth device with his thumb. A tiny flame appeared and Kaiba moved it onto the wick, watching the tiny explosion of heat travel up the length like a shiver up a spine.

Ryou dipped his hand into his pocket, and felt for something vainly. "Hey. Where'd I put that lighter?"

Joey's agonized screams were surely heard across the country.

-Owari-

Ok ok, I'll tell the truth: I forgot that I had originally planned for Bakura to set Yami's hair on fire. XD I felt like that was a loose end I had to tie up somehow. Plus, I get to half-ass a second update in one day! Shawoo!


	6. Chapter 6: Coffee Mug

Well I can't think of any good ideas for my Ranma fic, so let's see if I can pull another terrifying drabble out of my ass.

After note: Just because the first characters you see are Kaiba and Mokuba does not mean this is tabloidshipping. XD I would NEVER write an incest fic.

YamixHikari doesn't count XD Beware slight OOC on Kaiba's part (… Maybe Mokuba, too).

"Hey Mokey." He sipped and leaned over his younger siblings head. He held the cup palm pressed against the side, thumb slid under the handle.

"Hey, big brother." He suppressed a small giggle at the oh-so-very-old nickname. He alternated between glancing at the screen and trying to catch his brother's eyes over his shoulder.

Seto shifted his gaze to the screen. He listened for a moment and watched text fields fill out as Mokuba typed away. He was impressed- he clocked his little brother at about 90 WPM, a true CEO computer tycoon in the making. Often Mokuba would be helping Seto with Duel Disk models, making presentations for him to exhibit at business meetings, or writing assessments of the disk factories and research progress. He could do such things because he was always watching and learning, always wanting to help. Kaiba was well aware this, and although he wasn't about to announce it, he was indeed very proud.

Today, however, Mokuba was on the commonly used Kaiba knew that Mokuba knew where to access encyclopedia upon encyclopedia of useful information, so why he felt the need to 'google' something was beyond him. "Mokuba-" He was still getting used to the nickname a second time around, it floated in and out of his speech. "What are you searching for?"

"Just funny stuff- about us. Well, not us, people we know." Mokuba answered brightly.

The elder Kaiba raised a brow.

"Here, just look." Mokuba clicked open a previously minimized window. On it was displayed a long document, consisting of paragraphs of varying sizes and short bouts of dialogue. Seto skimmed over it quickly. Eventually he caught on and began reading aloud.

"… Marik massaged his hikari's shoulders, sending shivers down his spine. He then… Jesus, Mokuba, what are you reading?" He half cocked a smile, half tried to look disapproving. But the thought of Marik gently massaging anyone's shoulders was rather amusing.

"Oh, it's no big deal. But there are tons like this. They've all got names, too." Mokuba clicked open a second window. There was a long list of links on it, each with short descriptions and summaries tied to them.

"'Malik and Marik' is called bronzeshipping."

"Shipping?" Kaiba questioned between sips of his cooling coffee. He never started drinking it until he could no longer leech warmth from the cup. Come to think of it, when it came to coffee, he did a lot more holding then he did drinking.

"Y'know, like a relationship? I'm telling you there are tons of them."

"Nh. It would never work." He shook his head, still perusing the summaries on the screen. "Marik's a god forsaken psychopath. It's hard to fall in love with your pent-up emotions. It's also narcissism on a highly disturbing level."

"There are two others like that. Tendershipping, which is 'Yami Bakura and Bakura,'"

"That's preposterous!" Kaiba couldn't tell if he wanted to laugh or frown. "That'd be anything _but_ tender. Yami Bakura is a blood-obsessed maniac. He'd probably bleed poor Ryou dry. Or… I bet he's into bondage. Either way, it's a bad situation for Ryou."

"And then Puzzleshipping. Bet ya' can't guess who that's about."

"The pharaoh and Yugi." Kaiba sighed. "Ya know, that's just twisted. They're even more like themselves than the other four." … He pondered whether or not that statement could have been said in a clearer way, but he couldn't be bothered to say it again even if it could. "That one doesn't surprise me, though."

"Really?" Mokuba twisted in his chair to see his older brother's expressions.

"What? The pharaoh _is _a narcissist."

"He is not." Mokuba scoffed.

"Oh, you've watched us duel." Seto took a long sip from his mug. "Yugi might be an oblivious little ray of sunshine but his Yami is another story." He explained coolly.

"'You and Joey' is called Puppyshipping."

Kaiba nearly choked. He struggled not to drop his coffee, as well. After regaining his composure, he glared at the screen. Sure enough, near the top of the screen was a short summary that said:

'Puppyshipping. SKxJW. Kaiba and Joey get stuck as partners for a school project, and they decide to go over to Kaiba's place to finish it. But they end up having other plans…'

"RATED R FOR ADULT SITUATIONS?" He gaped.

"Yep. Fangirls are weird, aren't they?" Mokuba giggled. He obviously had not been searching for any fanfiction concerning himself, otherwise, he'd be much less inclined to talk.

"That's IMPOSSIBLE." Kaiba felt like strangling his mug, but it was made of porcelain, and therefore very hard to wring the life out of. "That's absurd. Joey is a bumbling idiot and a second-rate duelist. He's also obviously MALE and painfully STRAIGHT. He's constantly drooling over- what's her face. Mai. That…" Here, Kaiba's voice fell under his breath and Mokuba strained to hear.

"That what, now?"

"Nothing. It's just… it's wrong." He shuddered.

"Ah well. It's just Fangirls fantasies."

"Doesn't that bother you to know that random (mental) teenage girls write about your older brother dating another teenage boy you know?"

"No, no more so than it does to know that random (mental) teenage girls write about my best- male- friend being into bondage with my other- male- best friend."

"Mokuba, I'm blocking this site."

"You speak as though I don't know how to override that."

"What about Mai and Tea?"

"Pfft. Fangirls don't write yuri. You give up pretty easy."

"I bet you'd be surprised."

"Don't you have work to do?"

"…"

Mokuba chuckled to himself as his elder brother shuffled out of the room quickly, empty coffee mug in hand.

"Ruffleshipping? That sounds weird… OH GOD, OH GOD NO!"

Cookie if you know what ruffleshipping is.

Death sentence if you write ruffleshipping. D: For shame.


End file.
